


Breakfast, No Bed

by achievewriting



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, NSFW, Sex, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, this could have been way more Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievewriting/pseuds/achievewriting
Summary: Time and time again, sexual acts in the kitchen have discredited your supposed love for well- and evenly-cooked food.





	Breakfast, No Bed

Time and time again, sexual acts in the kitchen have discredited your supposed love for well- and evenly-cooked food.

In this particular instance, you’re perched on the counter, borrowed t-shirt rucked up your chest, panties on the floor, and your legs wrapped around Trevor’s waist.

You’re mindful of the hot stove to your left and the smell of burnt bacon, but with Trevor working hard between your legs, they're about the only things you’re capable of being mindful of. You lean back on your hands splayed on the counter behind you, your head tipped back and your neck open to the marks Trevor is busy leaving on your skin. His body meets yours in a quick, easy rhythm; every jerk of his hips winds you tighter. He abandons your neck in favour of gasping  _ ‘oh fuck, Jesus, holy fuck, you feel so good baby girl, oh fuck yes, like that?’ _ as his hands find your breasts, pinching here, soothing and squeezing there. You can only nod and babble his name incoherently in response, drunk on the feeling of his cock, hot and unbelievably hard, as he buries himself again and again in the slick of you. 

“Seriously, guys? Over  _ my _ breakfast?”

You lift your head in fright. Alfredo leans against the fridge, dressed for work and grinning like a Cheshire cat. Where Trevor is useless at hiding his arousal, Alfredo holds his back with perfect, cocky control. He watches the two of you from where he stands, smirking like he’s caught you both stuck in Chinese finger traps, not in the throws of passion on the kitchen bench.

Trevor pays him no mind, save for the  _ ‘fuck off’ _ he growls into your neck.

Alfredo laughs, “Oh, I think it’s fuck  _ on _ , Trev.”

Trevor pulls his lips from your skin to face him. “Then come here and make yourself useful.” There’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, but Trevor’s eyes are dark and hungry. He turns back to you, and his hands slip from your breasts to your hips, by which he tugs you closer to the edge of the counter. He continues his pounding, and the slight shift in position drives his cock deeper, to hit your g-spot on every withdrawal. Your attention is ripped from Alfredo as you rock forwards into Trevor with a moan, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance. He captures your lips with his own, and your tongue immediately demands entrance. When you pull away to breathe—cheeks flushed red, lips swollen and slick—Alfredo is moving to stand behind you both, one arm snaking under Trevor’s shirt and the other bringing your face to his own. With a gentle pass of his thumb, he wipes the saliva off the swell of your bottom lip before kissing you as long and as softly as he can with Trevor moving fervently between you. As Alfredo pulls away, Trevor moans; wordless and urgent, the noise twists something deep inside you and release begins to build.

_ “Please,” _ you whine, to no one in particular; both boys know what you need.

Trevor fucks you harder, faster; your hands scratch for purchase on his skin as your place on the counter becomes precarious. Alfredo’s hand slips between your bodies to find your clit. With a cry, you come undone under the pressure of his fingers and Trevor’s increasingly wild movements. You’re too occupied with your orgasm to see what Alfredo does to Trevor, but suddenly he’s moaning obscenities into the skin of your neck and clutching your hips like they’re the only thing stopping him from hitting the ceiling; a few final hard and frantic thrusts, and he spills inside you. Both debauched, slick with sweat, heaving, and shaking, you run your fingers through Trevor’s hair to cradle his head where it rests in the crook of your shoulder.

Alfredo’s gaze roams the sight of the two of you; for a moment his usual untouchable playfulness is gone and a warmth takes its place. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to Trevor’s neck, but his eyes are on you. You grin, and with his smile in return comes the puff of his chest.

“Y’all are  _ suckers _ for me,” Alfredo boasts, not a shred of humility about him, before swiping a piece of bacon off the pan at your side. With a slap to Trevor’s bare ass, he steps away. He stuffs the bacon in his mouth as he winks at you and Trevor, who’s craned his neck to stare incredulously, before sauntering off. “Let me know me when my eggs are done!” He calls, "And don't burn them like this bacon!"


End file.
